


Don't You Get It? I Love You.

by ianclaytongallagher



Category: Freier Fall | Free Fall (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianclaytongallagher/pseuds/ianclaytongallagher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some drabbles to satisfy myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Puller of Strings

**Author's Note:**

> These will probably take place at different times and I will try and make it vaguely known when. Or if I don't, you can always use your imagination.

 

 

Marc had not meant to stare.

  


In fact, he had not even realized he was staring at all until Kay takes a peek over his shoulder to gauge exactly what it is that is in Marc’s line of sight. The movement snaps Marc out of his trance and he blinks, catches Kay’s eyes as he turns back around.

  


He sees the smirk on his lips, he sees the mischievous light in his eyes.

  


Oh, no.

  


“What?” Marc asks, reaching for a french fry with an air of nonchalance.

  


They are at a restaurant having a late lunch together. Marc likes having the luxury of doing things like this so freely with Kay now. He likes being able to hold his hand in public without feeling guilty or self-conscious, especially during the daylight hours.

  


Kay’s smile widens until his teeth are revealed and Marc tries to remain calm in the face of that grin. That Kay grin that says, ‘I’m about to do something naughty.’

  


“You were looking at her,” He says. “That woman at the bar.”

  


To his credit, Kay does not sound angry or jealous--he just appears amused.

  


Marc snorts at his insinuation, but does not reply.

  


“You think she’s attractive.” He continues.

  


“I was just lost in thought.” Marc replies, biting into his french fry.

  


“Yeah?” Kay asks, looks over his shoulder again.

  


Marc’s heart starts to pound.

  


Oh, no.

  


“Yeah.” Marc replies. “What’s your problem?”

  


Kay considers him for a moment. Then abruptly, he stands.

  


OH.

  


NO.

  


“Kay.” Marc says in what could only be described as a warning tone, but he does not know why he bothers. When has Kay ever taken orders from anyone?

  


He reaches out desperately for Kay’s leather clad arm to keep him from going anywhere, but Kay breaks loose and turns away from him, making a beeline for the woman sitting alone at the bar.

  


“Kay!” His voice climbs several octaves and the volume intensifies in his urgency as his fingers slip off Kay's jacket. Marc scrabbles to seize hold of him again, but it is too late. He is gone.

  


_Scheisse_.

  


Now he can do nothing, but watch helplessly as Kay seats himself right next to the appealing brunette and orders himself a drink. Marc grinds his teeth as he watches Kay strike up a conversation with her, instantly turning on the charm. Within minutes, he has her eating out of the palm of his hand.

  


He’s just doing this to unsettle you, Marc thinks. That’s just Kay. He wants your attention. He just wants to annoy you.

  


He looks on as Kay orders this woman a drink and flashes her an irresistible smirk. The one that Marc knows he openly exploits to get what he wants, even when his back is turned. The enigmatic one that draws people in. God knows it has worked spectacularly on Marc himself in the past.

  


Marc feels blood rushing to his face when the woman settles a hand on Kay’s arm and he does nothing to disengage from the psychical contact. He can feel his heart beat starting to pick up again and his blood begin to pound in his ears. Marc cannot put a finger on what exactly is causing his distress; he is well aware that Kay is not interested in women. Despite that fact, he cannot stem the edgy feeling that is consuming him as he watches this ridiculous pantomime play out in front of him.

  


He wants you to react this way, he tells himself. Calm down.

  


Kay suddenly leans close and whispers something in the woman’s ear and Marc finds himself on his feet before he is even aware of what he is doing. The woman throws her head back and laughs at whatever witty bullshit Kay had just fed her, and tips her head in a flirty manner. Marc’s feet are moving before he can stop himself. Kay’s hand is on this woman’s leg now and if this goes on any longer, he is going to lose it.

  


Maybe he already has.

  


When he reaches them, Marc’s hand darts out and his fingers wrap around the wrist of Kay’s left hand. The hand that is not so coincidentally, touching this strange woman.

  


Kay turns to him, eyebrows raised, looking at him askance, but Marc is not in the mood for Kay’s antics or his histrionics right now. He tugs him off the barstool roughly and drags him across the bar to the right and into the restroom, leaving the woman glancing after them in a very confused manner.

  


Marc shoves Kay into a stall and locks the door behind them. When he faces him again, Kay has an expression of absolute triumph playing across his features. Marc does not even bother to comment. Instead, he pushes him up against the cold plastic of the stall and crashes his mouth against his. He can feel Kay’s broad smile against his lips and he knows, without a doubt, this is how he had anticipated the situation would play out. This is the outcome he had been counting on.

  


Kay has always had a talent for pulling the strings in all situations.

 

 

 

 


	2. The "P" Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of explicit. I'm sorry. Or Maybe not.

 

 

They still go jogging together sometimes.

  
Kay says it is a good way to start the morning. Kay says it is a good way to stay in shape. Kay says a lot of things, especially when Marc complains in his Marc way that he is too exhausted to get up.

  
In these instances, Kay is kind enough to drop the “P” word and push Marc’s buttons enough to wake him up and get him moving.

  
Today is such a day, and as they jog alongside each other, breathing slow and even, they do not speak. Something about being with Kay has always seemed natural and easy. Marc had never felt the need to fill the quiet. They have always enjoyed the silent companionship and today is no exception.

  
That is, until they hit a rest stop of sorts. It appears to be a camping ground, but no one seems to be around. There are patches of green grass and dirt. Cement tables and miniature barbecues.

  
The one building in sight is a small, plain cement structure that is labeled bathrooms—women’s on one side and men’s on the other.

  
Marc walks over and leans against the wall while Kay moves to sit on one of the cement benches. Marc watches as Kay pulls out a tightly rolled joint and a lighter. It is now extremely commonplace to observe Kay getting stoned, Marc does not even bat an eyelash.

  
Kay goes to light up, then stops and glances over at him.

  
Marc has learned to be hyper aware of Kay’s movements over time. At any given moment he could do just about anything, Marc is convinced.

“What?” Marc calls over to him, mostly because he feels if he speaks loud enough, it will break Kay’s concentration and stop him from doing whatever it is he may be about to do.

  
Kay tucks his joint and lighter away and slides off the table.

  
And just his walk—Oh, God—just the way he is walking toward him, Marc can feel a shiver go up and down his spine. He swallows when Kay stops in front of him, looking into his eyes unblinkingly.

  
Sometimes Marc cannot help feeling like prey that Kay is more than keen to hunt down, even after all this time.

  
“What?” He repeats, but this time it comes out pathetically weak and soft.

  
A wolfish grin fills Kay’s face and without a word, he sways toward him for a kiss, tongue swiping across the roof of his mouth and behind his top teeth.

 

Marc moans in response, weak for his tongue. Weak for his lips. Weak for Kay always.

There is a brief struggle for dominance with lips and tongues and teeth until Marc remembers where they are. He turns his head aside to scan the empty campground just incase. Just incase.

 

Kay grabs his chin roughly and redirects his lips back to his.

 

“Kay…” He says softly, but it is not a whine he tells himself. It is not a whine despite Kay dubbing him _quengler_ the other day.

 

Kay is not deterred by his apparent misgivings.

  
In fact, it is not long before hands come into play in a big way, and Marc thinks that if Kay was not leaning his hard body up against his, his knees would be weak enough to give way and he would be on the pavement in a heap.

 

Kay’s right hand is wandering, touching him everywhere. His left hand is still holding his head in place.

 

Marc gasps when Kay’s hand starts rubbing over the crotch of his shorts.

 

Kay pulls back to look him in the eye and Marc feels hazy.

 

Without any other preliminaries, Kay places his hand beneath Marc’s chin and gives him one command, “Spit.”

 

Marc feels like a sleepwalker who has been forcefully awakened. As if all he needed was the magic word spoken aloud to free him from his dazed state. He looks around again, this time more thoroughly.

 

“Are you completely crazy?” He asks. “What if someone sees us?”

 

An amused grin spreads across Kay’s face because honestly, Marc will never change.

 

“There’s no one around.” Kay tells him, and the “P” word is heavily implied by the way Kay is eyeing him.

 

Marc sulks silently for a moment until Kay cups his hand below his chin again and looks him dead in the eye.

 

“Spit.” He orders more deliberately.

 

Marc’s eyes move about for a bit, but finally he lets out a little sigh, apparently resigned to obey. When has he ever denied Kay a request?

 

He takes a moment to work up a mouthful of spit and then fills Kay’s palm, gasping when the hand he apparently had not been focused on slips him free from his running shorts.

 

Kay uses Marc’s own saliva to slick him up and then his hand is moving slowly up and down.

 

Marc does not know how he is keeping his erection when it is damn cold outside and the draft does not feel particularly good.

 

“It’s freezing.” He complains, and Kay thinks Marc must be the only person in the world that could make a fuss while getting a hand job.

 

“Focus.” Is Kay’s only response, reaching to turn Marc’s face toward him.

 

“Can’t we go inside at least?” Marc gripes.

 

“No.” Kay says firmly, looking at him so close-up that Marc has to fight back a gulp. “I want you right here.”

 

Marc attempts to roll his eyes, but it is extremely difficult with the warm weight of Kay’s fingers and palm around him, especially as he begins to stroke faster.

A whimper escapes from Marc’s lips.

 

Kay’s fist twists on the way down with his next pump and Marc says his name.

 

Kay hums softly in response.

 

Marc pants and gasps and he is trying to choke back the noises, but he can never seem to control himself when Kay is touching him.

 

“Marc.” Kay says his name, the fingers of his free hand reaching for his chin once more and hauling his head back to an upright position.

 

Unknowingly, his head had lolled to the side and his eyes had closed.

 

“Don’t shut your eyes.” Kay tells him. “I want you looking at me.”

 

Marc groans, trying to turn his head away but thanks to Kay’s sudden viselike grip on his chin, forcing his head backwards against the plaster wall almost painfully hard, he cannot move.

 

Marc is not in the mood to give Kay the satisfaction he is apparently craving this morning and he thinks it goes back to him interrupting his sleep cycle.

 

Suddenly Kay’s fist opens and he completely releases him.

 

Just like that.

 

The absolute absurdity of the action makes Marc’s eyes pop open. Only Kay could ever do something so abrupt.

 

Marc gives Kay an almost wounded look, but Kay just stares back calmly, seemingly unaffected.

 

“Don’t stop.” Marc whines out, and yes, this time it is definitely a whine. He is well aware that he is all but pouting and yet he cannot bring himself to care.

 

Kay blinks at him and Marc is not sure how, but Kay can even make a blink infuriating.

 

He blinks at him a couple more times, measured and slow, holding Marc’s gaze without action for longer than Marc would have liked.

 

“I want you looking right here.” Kay finally reiterates, using two fingers to motion to his eyes.

 

Marc tries his best to nod and when Kay’s hand wraps back around him, he meets his resolute gaze. Those bright blue eyes that miss nothing especially, it seems, when it comes to Marc.

 

Kay’s expression is intense and he is so attentive, Marc is quickly feeling out of his head. Marc’s eyes sweep over Kay’s face to keep himself from losing concentration, his lips and his nose and his twin moles, the one by his right eye and the one below that.

 

Every detail of Kay’s face and body enthralls him.

 

His eyes travel back up to meet Kay’s and Marc knows that no matter how hard he had tried to deny it in the past, from the moment their eyes first met back at training, he had not stood a chance.

 

Marc tries his best to lean forward, he wants Kay’s lips on his, but Kay is still holding him against the wall.

 

“Kiss me.” Marc pleads breathlessly.

 

The next thing he knows, Kay is releasing the hold he has on his head and is lowering himself to his knees with all the grace that his surname suggests.

 

He smirks up at him and Marc swallows hard on impulse.

 

Kay’s tongue flicks out and he licks him from base to tip, causing Marc to inhale sharply.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Marc insists, his head falling back.

 

Kay laughs under his breath, a mischievous sound that makes Marc tremble like a leaf.

 

Kay leaves a trail of kisses across his cock until he reaches the top, dragging his bottom lip in such a way that all he has to do is change the angle of his head to swallow Marc down with ease.

 

Marc gasps audibly, trying his best to keep his legs locked.

 

Kay has this way of looking smug even with his mouth around him and Marc has never seen anything so beautiful and so obscene at the same time.

 

The sudden warmth of Kay’s mouth is in stark contrast to the bitter cold of the early morning air and Marc’s eyes roll back with pleasure as Kay’s mouth slides up and down.

 

Pay attention, Marc orders himself after a second. Or a minute. Or an hour. He is not really sure anymore.

 

With great difficulty, he raises his head from its slumped position and meets Kay’s eyes. He is looking more determined now, smirk gone.

 

Marc extends his arm, runs his hand over his short blonde hair, says his name brokenly.

 

Kay reaches up with his free hand and finds Marc’s other hand, laces their fingers together.

 

Marc does not know why the simple gesture makes his heart swell. It is ridiculous, he knows, but he feels more connected to Kay when their hands are touching in some way.

 

It does not take Kay long at all to bring him off, Marc squeezing Kay’s fingers tight as he whimpers and spurts into his mouth.

 

Kay swallows with ease, pulling off and making sure to lick him clean.

 

Marc is breathing like he has just run a marathon, and when Kay tucks him back into his shorts and stands, Marc lets himself fall forward into Kay’s body, head coming to rest in his neck and the dip of his shoulder.

 

Kay’s arms wrap around him, holding him.

 

“Okay?” Kay asks softly.

 

Marc just nods, burying his face farther into Kay’s shoulder.

 

Kay presses a kiss against his hair.

 

“Come on.” He says, attempting to step back, but Marc clings to his hoodie and refuses to let go.

 

Kay smiles to himself, secretly pleased.

 

“Let’s go.” Kay tries again and when Marc still does not respond or relinquish his hold he adds, “Pussy.”

 

The reaction is instant. Marc’s grip slackens and then he shoves Kay away from him hard. Kay stumbles back a few steps and turns his back on Marc’s scowling face.

 

Flashing a wide arrogant smile over his shoulder, Kay proceeds to jog away trusting Marc to not only catch up with him but to keep pace when he reaches him.

 

 

 

 


	3. Maybe You Should Hold My Hand

 

 

 

It is idiotic, really. This feeling. And Marc knows it.

 

Some rational part of his brain tells him this is normal.

 

Because Kay is well, Kay. He has that stupid mysteriousness about him. That smile and that confidence and that air of complete independence that causes people to want to breach his world.

 

Whether that is forever or just for a night.

 

Marc has seen it. Men, lots and lots of men. When they are out like this, at a club. They try and dance with him. They buy him drinks. They proposition him in the bathroom. They sip their own beverages oh-so-suggestively as they leer his way.

 

And the touching. The touching is the worst part for Marc. He hates the damn touching. And it is not even a possessive thing. Okay, maybe it is a little bit of a possessive thing. And it is not an insecurity thing. Okay, so maybe it is a little bit of that, too.

 

But it is Kay’s fault, really. It is the way Kay handles the touching or in this case, the way he does not. Marc has seen other men run their fingers along his arms, his back, his shoulders before. Sometimes even his ass. And Kay? He never does much of anything except smirk his Kay smirk and keep right on doing what he is doing whether that is dancing or just walking past.

 

It is when Marc gets back from taking a piss in the bathroom, that he finally reaches his breaking point.

 

He can see Kay so clearly leaning against the bar in that carefree way of his. Well, he can always see Kay, he is not hard to miss. Even propping himself up half drunk in that casual way, he looks extremely attractive. Apparently, some other guy thinks the same because he is standing far closer to Kay than Marc would have liked, and his fingers are sliding down from Kay’s shoulder to his hand.

 

Marc takes great satisfaction in watching Kay’s hand slide out from under this stranger’s to lift his drink and take another sip. Kay can make any maneuver seem natural.

 

Still, it is not enough.

 

Marc strides over and without much thought, puts his entire body between this guy and Kay. Like a wall. Like a roadblock. Like he is trying to protect Kay or something. It is ludicrous. It is absolutely ridiculous and overly macho and so many other things that Marc cannot even put a name to here and now, but he finds himself doing it anyway.

 

“Fuck off.” He tells the guy without any sort of build-up.

 

He swears he hears Kay snort into his drink behind him, but he pays him no mind at all.

 

The guy however, looks utterly offended.

 

They size each other up for a moment, and really, Marc was not even sure gay men did this sort of thing. Hell, maybe it was a first for this guy.

 

Marc feels like a completely different person at this time, like he is watching this conflict take place from outside of his body. He is not generally the confrontational type. He is not one to yell expletives in people’s faces and behave so… hostilely. So what was his deal?

 

“Excuse me?” The guy finally replies.

 

“You heard me.” Marc insists, trying not to let the heat rising from beneath his collar reach his face. “Get lost.”

 

“And who might you be?” The man asks. “The boyfriend?”

 

“His partner.” He replies and he does not even know where the word comes from, but it bursts out of him anyway. He is unsure of where this boldness is coming from as well.

 

“And the jealous type, I see.” The guy looks him up and down a bit, but Marc does not so much as flinch. The man’s eyes move to peer over his shoulder at Kay before returning his attention back to Marc. “Well, with a partner who looks like that, there will be plenty more for you to chase off, don’t you worry. I won’t be the last so you may want to work on that little attitude of yours.”

 

The man turns and walks away with a sneer and Marc swallows before turning around to face Kay. He is sipping his drink nonchalantly, using his tongue to toy with the tiny straw, but he is also eyeing him. Eyeing him in that entertained way that he seems to reserve especially for Marc.

 

“What?” Marc demands over the music, and he knows it comes out overly defensive. If anything, Marc is definitely thankful that it is too dark for Kay to tell he is blushing.

 

“I didn’t say anything.” Kay says calmly, but the amusement is still clear in his eyes and on his face.

 

Marc is trying so hard not to pout. Kay constantly teases him about that, and he does not think he will be able to deal with it tonight if he starts in. He thinks it will just cause him to start a petty argument.

 

“What’s up?” Kay asks when Marc draws circles on the dark wood of the bar with his index finger and fails to say anything or even look up.

 

Mark knows Kay’s magnetism is not his fault. It is just Kay. Poised, unruffled Kay who goes through life doing what he wants and saying what he wants and making it all look effortless. He does not even have to try. How can he blame him for unintentionally drawing people in just the way he himself was?

 

Marc swallows again and juts out his chin at Kay which merely gives Kay the impression of a stubborn child, most likely the opposite of what Marc must be trying to convey.

 

“I don’t like when people put their hands on you.” He tells him flat out. “Men, women, I don’t like it.”

 

“Especially men.” Kay says and he is stirring his drink with his straw now, eyes downcast in an almost inattentive manner.

 

Marc is not sure if Kay is teasing him or not, but either way he is irked.

 

“It makes me feel uncomfortable to watch people touch you all the time.” Marc admits. “And I know… I know that you’re…”

 

“What?” Kay loses interest in his drink completely now and sets it on the countertop.

 

Marc gulps.

 

“I just… I want to be the only one that gets to touch you.” Marc says, not sure if he is articulating himself in the best way. “I want… I want people to know that…”

 

This is fucking moronic. Marc feels like a fucking moron, that is for sure.

 

Kay is twining his own fingers together, and from his seat on the bar stool, he is still eyeing him with amusement.

 

“Forget it.” Marc says.

 

“You know, there’s a simple solution to this.” Kay tells him after a minute.

 

“Oh, yeah? And what is that?” Marc asks irritably.

 

“Maybe you should hold my hand.” Kay tells him and he is smiling that subtle smile, the one that does not overpower his expressive eyes.

 

Marc surveys him for several seconds and when his expression does not change, he finally decides that Kay is just messing with him and turns to walk away, feeling even more grouchy than before.

 

Before he gets far he feels Kay’s fingers wrapping around his wrist, stopping him. He pulls him roughly around and Marc notices as Kay tugs him in closer, he has stood up out of his chair to keep him from leaving.

 

Marc moans into Kay’s mouth as he leans in for a delicious, open mouthed kiss. Kay’s hands skim down Marc’s back, his t-shirt already clinging to his skin with sweat from the heat of the club. When Kay reaches his ass, he squeezes with both hands. Marc gasps, body lunging forward without thinking, causing their hips to knock together.

 

He hears a pleased little chuckle escape Kay’s mouth right next to his ear and Marc cannot help latching his mouth to the warm skin of Kay’s neck when it is suddenly so readily available. He presses kisses and love bites into his skin until Kay groans and redirects Marc’s mouth to his own. Kay’s right hand slides all the way back up Marc’s body until he can cup the back of Marc’s head and run his fingers through the fringe of hair near the top of it.

 

God, Marc loves the way he can always feel the shape of Kay’s smile against his own mouth.

 

It is quite a display especially in a public setting, but Marc is not complaining. In fact, when they break for air, he is smiling from ear to ear. They lean in for one last kiss, smaller this time. Like sealing a deal.

 

“Now, let’s go dance.” Kay takes Marc’s hand and starts leading him back to the dance floor, making their way in-between the plethora of sweaty, gyrating bodies all packed together. “ _Lebensgefährte_ ." He mouths over his shoulder just to see Marc’s face swiftly turn into a mask of embarrassment, rolling his eyes to try and hide it.

 

But Kay sees everything.

 

Kay laughs, but Marc cannot really hear it now over the pounding of the music, but that is okay because Kay is pulling him closer and their bodies are moving together and he thinks at the moment, this is all he wants and needs.

 

 

 


End file.
